The wound that has just been bandaged will soon be torn to shreds and become a bloody mess again.

Left with no other choice, Jiang Qingpu could only tie him up with coarse linen to prevent further harm.

Seeing everyone's attention focused on him, the boy gave a wry smile, which was extremely rare in the lifeless room.

"Sister... I'm willing to give it a try..."

Qin Zhaoyue was stunned, and when she turned her head, she met the boy's gaze.

It was clear he was trying his best to put on a warm smile, but his face was unusually pale and his cheeks were sunken, making him look rather ferocious with his teeth bared.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I'm about to die... what's there to be afraid of? Why don't you... ask Old Jiang... how many more times I might wake up?"

He spoke haltingly, beads of sweat streaming down his face, but he was unable to move because his limbs were bound.

Qin Zhaoyue stood up, handed the syringe to Suimo, and slowly walked to the eaves to wipe away his sweat with a clean silk cloth.

Large-scale outbreaks of disease always hit the elderly and children the hardest.

The ward, which was originally for two people, was crammed with four. Some of them left and never came back. People came and went.

There was a cheerful boy who, despite suffering greatly, always wore a smile when he was lucid, until…

A dull, aching pain, like a stone lodged in my chest, caused my chest to heave and my brows to furrow, my vision blurring uncontrollably.

"Sister..." The boy's smile grew even brighter.

"Life and death are preordained... I accept it... while I'm still... still conscious..."